


Her Name

by Little_Cello



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Melancholy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 19:24:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1561325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Little_Cello/pseuds/Little_Cello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Sam thinks, did she always have that lonely look in her eyes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Her Name

The next time she appears, she's silent. Doesn't taunt him. Just looks.

 

And so they look at each other, until Sam's heart stops trying to escape his ribcage. Until Sam's nerves allow him to look a bit closer, look at her properly. The girl standing in his flat. Clown clutched to her side. Gazing at him. No, not really – gazing ahead, gazing  _past_ him.

 

And Sam thinks, did she always have that lonely look in her eyes?

 

He can't tell. He never bothered to look.

 

Slowly, Sam rises to his feet. Her eyes seem to follow the movement, but in the twilight of the room it's hard to say for certain. And still she doesn't say a word.

 

Sam is standing up now, looking down at her. He thinks that she's quite small for her age. For the age she appears to be, anyway. Or is that because the clown in her arm seems to be so massive? It's nearly as tall as she is. Not factory-made, looking at the dangly strands of hair, at the slight asymmetry of its face. Second-hand? Or maybe, mass-produced after all, but a mishap - discarded and then picked up by her? Actually, no. No, this clown clearly is a much-loved toy, always has been. Made it herself, with the help of her mother, most like. Her mother. Does she even have one? Did she  _ever_ have one?

 

_Mum._

 

Sam swallows. She is looking at him still. There's sadness in her eyes. A child's sadness. She's lost. A timeless sadness, too. She lost.

 

He doesn't regret coming back. He knows he never will. But, looking at her, in her red dress, so lost on the carpet, he wonders whether he missed something. If she was a mere symbol of something in his mind, some part he was supposed to overcome, he should be feeling triumph, because clearly, he has defeated her.

 

All Sam feels now is sadness.

 

For a moment, he thinks that this might be one last, desperate attempt to get him to reconsider his choice – but that isn't even possible, is it. He's stopped listening to the voices, and they have stopped talking to him. But even as the thought crosses his mind, the hurt in her eyes deepens.

 

They still are looking at each other.

 

No, Sam isn't scared of her anymore.

 

'What's your name?'

 

The question lingers in the air between them. She pulls the clown a bit closer towards her, hugging it with both her thin arms.

 

'Ruth.'

 

Sam blinks.

 

She's gone.


End file.
